


Do I Know You?

by that_this_will_do



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (Finally!), Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Pegging, Rediscovering each other, Surprises, fanfic of a fanfic, happy and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_this_will_do/pseuds/that_this_will_do
Summary: Bellamy Blake is having A Good Day. Fanfic for betts’s amazing work Training Wheels, takes place post chapter 17.





	Do I Know You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Training Wheels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759888) by [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts). 



> you should all read everything betts has written. seriously. it’s all amazing, Training Wheels changed my life. Betts, thank you so much for writing these stories and for letting us play in your universes!!!

They’ve been together officially again for a month or so when the package arrives.

Obviously, Bellamy doesn’t open it. Just puts it in the guestroom-turning-studio-space where Clarke keeps her things while a small part of him thrills at seeing _her_ name above _his_ address on the package slip. Then he goes back downstairs to start dinner and make out with Clarke when she gets back from the DMV.

It’s a rare cool day in the middle of summer, he’ll open the windows to let in the fresh air. He woke up this morning with Clarke tucked into his arms, smiled, and nuzzled her hair before falling back asleep. She’s really here. He still hasn’t quite gotten over that. They have sleepy sex in the morning and bicker about groceries and do laundry together. She leaves notes on the fridge about little things-- i-love-yous, updates on what they’re out of, random doodles--and he can write _back_. She’s bratty and beautiful and now that he has his cast off they went for a _run_ yesterday...

He fucking loves his life.

Clarke gets back and helps with make nachos. Has some snarky comment to make about the quality of the tomatoes and a story about that one weird Mexican place in Di Nang. He watches her talk, watches the setting sun shine off her hair and silhouette her face. Tries vaguely to not just grin stupidly all evening. Then they go up to the bedroom-- _their_ room--and he eats her out until his jaw aches.

And in his good mood, he honestly forgets about the package. It was a little strange, he supposes. Clarke still hasn’t broken the habit of measuring something’s value against the space it takes up in a backpack, but she just leased a car, so.

It comes back to him, though. Mild curiosity. He asks her about it a few days later as they’re making dinner and she’s folding up the cardboard box to put in the recycling bin.

“So what was in that package?”

She looks momentarily confused and he gestures to the box she’s breaking down. Then he has to turn around because the pasta is sizzling over. She’s oddly silent. He turn back around and tenses automatically. She has that look on her face--part excited, part smug. _Her scheming face_ , he thinks, _Oh hell_. Generally leads to complicity in terrible plans, and more recently blowjobs. Arousal zings through him like a trained response.

“Well?” He says after she still hasn’t answered. She just grins at him and brushes by to take out the recycling.

“I have something for you,” she says over her should with a wink.

Yep. He’s screwed.

He can’t wait.

\--

She doesn’t expound upon it when she gets back, just goes to double check the pasta because she “doesn’t trust almond-milk-liking taste-buds, you monster.” The corner of her mouth quirks up as he continues to look at her. She sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth and makes a thinking face, tilting her head from side to side. He doesn’t know whether he wants to kiss her or spank her. She declares the pasta done, with that gleam in her eye, and brushes her ass against his cock as she bends over to get the colander.

He’s _not_ going to ask her a third time.

They spend dinner talking about nothing in particular. He asks about the DMV. She asks about lesson plans. They eat excruciatingly slowly. He didn’t really want a salad, but they made and ate them anyway. This is a competition now. To skip the greenery, to speed up or show impatience in any way, that would be admitting defeat. She may have changed a lot in the past six years, but he refuses to believe she can now wait _him_ out.

“How’s the Colin Wood book?” she asks as they sit down again with the pasta. He’s reading it in for AP US History prep. Thinking about making his students read it, or making it one of the options for an assignment.

“It’s good, well presented. It’s an interesting frame on early US history, of course…” he continues into a slight rant about AP requirements this year. It takes a minute or two before he catches her expression--head tilted, eyes wide, biting into her bottom lip and nodding. She asks a follow up question and he can almost hear the _sir?_ unspoken at the end. Something in him sizzles.

She’s putting _moves_ on him. Of course she knows how to do that now. He knows that. He just hadn't _realized_ that. Fine. He knows moves too--he once got two people off at the same time. He has _moves_. He lets his voice drop and leans into her a bit. He watches with satisfaction as her pupils dilate, although she looks amused so maybe that wasn’t all that subtle. She asks something about syllabi, licks sauce off her spoon while looking up at him through her lashes. He wants to roll his eyes. His cock hardens in his shorts. She trails a bare foot up his thigh. He gives her a look. She flushes and presses her heel into his erection. He breathes out heavily. He almost leans over the table to kiss her when she pulls away and goes back to her linguine. _Goddamnit_. Wants to tell her to hurry up, but she has _you lose_ printed across her terrible poker face.

She finally gets up to take the dishes to the sink and he gets up and follows her. Before she can say anything, he grabs her by the waist and kisses her, deep and wet. She lets out a surprised gasp when he pulls off to suck at her neck. He slots a thigh in between her legs and she grinds against him. He kisses and bites his way up her neck and along jaw bone. Sucks that sensitive spot behind her ear and trails a hand up under her dress to cup her breasts. He pinches her nipple and kisses her again and she’s gone, panting and gasping into his mouth as her orgasm washes over her. _Party trick_ , he thinks.

“So, you had a surprise for me?” He whispers into her ear, planting a kiss on the ridge. She nods and he pulls away. She’s smiling like she’s won something, and he grins in return.

“Follow me,” she says, and goes up the stairs.

\--

She gestures for him to go in first, and he freezes in the door frame.

There’s an assortment of dildos laid across the bed.

They range from small, the size of his palm, to what looks like it must be 11 inches long and as wide around as his fist. They’re different colors, some textured, some curved. They look high quality, expensive. Because _of course_ his princess would purchase luxury dildos. Bordering on novelty, he thinks, glances again at the largest one.

“Are we doing a comparative study, baby?” His voice comes out gruff and playful.

She palms his ass and squeezes slightly, kissing his shoulder. He realizes what she’s going to say the instant before she does.

“Oh, they’re not for me.”

_Oh yes._ He is very much on board with this plan. He hasn’t bottomed seriously since… fuck, since college. He spends a moment despairing about how that was now more than a decade ago. He feels old. Clarke comes around his front, hooks her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly.

It’s slow and sweet. _Loosen up, old man._ He tries to answer, push all his gratitude and love into this kiss. _i love you, i’m so happy we’re here_. God, he’s lucky she came back.

The kiss broke the tension and cooled him off a bit. He rests his forehead against hers and smiles. Then reality sets in and he groans slightly.

“Hate to rain on your parade, princess,” he says, “But we, uh, just ate, and those,” he tilts his head toward the bed, “look _new_.”

She raises a brow at him and looks smug. “And why do think we made whole grain pasta and vegetables?”

He almost snorts. _Fucking really?_ How does the girl who shuffled into his bedroom and asked him how to kiss now know the right foods to eat if you want to have anal sex later? His chagrin must show on his face because she laughs and lets go of him, moving towards the bed.

“Come on,” she says, “We have to talk first anyway.”

She sits down cross-legged against the pillows and he sits opposite her, with the dildos creating a sort of partition between them.

“You know what a safeword is,” she says. It’s not really a question, but it occurs to him that they’ve never talked about his past sexual partners, or hers from college and after. They should do that. Maybe that’s what they’re doing now.

“I think we should establish one.”

“How about peanut butter?” he says, because he is a little drunk (possibly just on her) and this whole thing feels good but _weird_. She starts laughing softly.

“How about Red, Yellow, Green, for now?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

“That works,” he says. “It’s, um, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

He thinks he sees her eyes flicker down the line of dildos, her face a cross between scheming and getting-shit-done. “We’ll start small,” she says.

He glances at the smallest one, “Maybe not that small.”

She tilts her head to the side. “There’s no rush,” she says, swallowing a grin. He snorts, pushes himself onto his knees and over into her space, capturing her lips in kiss. He crowds her down against the pillows and pulls her thigh snug against his. He grinds down into her, “Speak for yourself, Princess,” he murmurs against her lips.

He feels her grin. She slides her hands under his shirt, which he leans to pull off then goes back to kissing her, and slides her hands into his shorts to cup his ass. He rolls them over so he can pull her dress off and get his mouth on her tits. Eventually she pushes him back against the pillows with a mock-stern face.

“No rush,” she says. He lifts up and kisses her again. She climbs off him entirely, walking around the bed in nothing but soaked underwear.

He watches as she buckles the harness into place. Comes back to sit on the bed. She asks about the last time he’s done this, and he tells her about fooling around with a guy he knew in college. She motions for him to lay back, pushes his legs open. Licks at his cock, sucks him until his balls tighten, then gets the lube and smears some around his opening and on her finger, slips one inside.

She fingers him open like she knows what she’s doing. All he has to do is lie there and watch. He runs his hand hand through her hair, cups her tits. She smiles, but brushes him off. She has her concentrated face on. He forces himself to let her do what she wants and focus on how it feels. Like the first time she was on top, but she’s not waiting for him to move this time.

When she’s fucking four fingers into him easily, he murmurs, “Ready,” and she leans back. He grabs the second-largest dildo, probably about the size he is, because proportionality. That other one is going to take more work if they’re really going to ignore the _novelty use only_ label.

“Are you sure?” she asks as he hands it to her.

“I can handle it,” he says. His voice sounds weirdly as he speaks. But she smiles, and slips it into the harness, drizzling lube on her fingers and coating it. He sits up.

“How do you want do this?” she asks, flirty but serious.

“What works best for you?” She shrugs.

“I’m flexible,” she says. He licks his lips, and she adds, “Roll over for me?”

He does, getting onto his hands and knees in front of her. He doesn’t feel exposed--over the past few months between the cast and the sex she’s seen it all before. Well, until she presses her thumb against his asshole, probing slightly and replacing it with the tip of the dildo. He inhales, excited, maybe a little wary.

She pushes in slowly, until he can feel her hips flush against his ass. He sighs a little at the full feeling. Old but new. He’s prepped enough so that the sting is manageable. She pulls out and pushes back in, setting a pace. She puts a hand on the small of his back, the other one on his upper thigh, guiding him.

It’s good, but gentle. Getting him adjusted to the stretch and the burn. Calculated; like she’s done this before and knows what to watch. How to have anal with someone for the first time. Like she knows everything now--been all over the world, found other people to have all her other firsts with. He thinks sometimes he doesn’t have anything left to teach her. Maybe that’s a good thing. Neither of them has to go easy on each other anymore.

Which is kind of what she’s doing now. He’s done this before too. A memory from nearly a decade ago suddenly comes to mind and he lifts his head up a bit.

“You hauled 70 pound backpack around the world for two years, I know you’re stronger than that.”

She makes a surprised, half-laughing sound, then slams her hips forward. He chokes on a moan. She switches angles, then thrusts in again. He exhales harshly. Then she stills.

He holds his breath half a moment. Lets it out in a whoosh as she wraps her hands over his hips. Like he's done to her so many times. When he does it now, he can feel the curve of her stomach beneath his fingers. He supposes she can too. His body's changed since the last time he did this, not a skinny nineteen year old anymore. Not seventeen and shy anymore either. Once, he could set his hands in the curve of her hips and feel like he was holding all of her. Once, buried inside her on stolen time, he remembers feeling like she was his to hold.

She settles into a rhythm quickly. Hard and fast, almost too much. He thinks he recognizes it, although never from this end. He moans as she makes a microadjustment and starts nailing his prostate. She alternates fast and slow, bringing him up to the edge. God, he’d forgotten it felt this good. It’s all bizarrely familiar. It’s both the first time they’ve done this and the countless repeat.

Of course, that means he shouldn’t have been surprised when she stops short just before he goes over the edge. He groans in protest and she chuckles. Her voice is different--new and in charge, capable, confident. She loosens her grip, thrusts shallowly, letting him cool down.

She starts back up again. Brings him dizzyingly close, and stops. She doesn’t say the words he did, but he can hear them in her voice anyway.

_You’ll come when I want you to_

She repeats. Close but never enough. He tries to scrape together enough mental energy to count how many times he usually cycles before he gets her off, since they’ve fallen into a mirror world, but a particularly well placed thrust scrambles his remaining brain cells and he goes out on _mirror_.

He supposes he knows what he should be doing. He lets his head drop in between his elbows, gasps and wines and makes bitten-off noises. Whispers _please_ and _oh fuck_. He can hear everything in double--his voice now and her voice then. Everything feels connected by this moment and that. His orgasm catches him off guard. He comes with a broken shout. She slams into him a few more times before stopping. He feels her lean down and presses kisses into his back and shoulders, relaxing her hold on him.

“Wait, wait…” he says before she can pull out. She stills. He’s thinking about the last time he was doing this regularly, about being high and young and thinking it was the drugs, but maybe… he thinks about being on top of the world, having someone he wants completely by his side, about Clarke, her mountain of strength and great tits, completely silent and motionless behind him, spearing him open. He’s still panting, he feels so _full_ , still half-hard.

He shift his weight and throws his arm back to pull her into him again, the dildo nudging and sparking against his overstimulated prostate. _Party trick_ , he thinks.

“Keep going,” he breathes. She thrusts forward, deeper into him, and curls herself over his back. He feels her lips up and down his neck, hot open-mouth kisses that leave him flushed all over. She bites into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and sucks. He whimpers. She drags her teeth down his back, followed by kisses. She straightens, and he feels her hand between his shoulder blades, pressing his face down into the mattress. _Oh fuck..._

This time, there’s no shy buildup or teasing rhythm. She drives into him. He can hear her panting behind him. Then she starts talking.

“Been thinking about this for so long, you know," she says. "God you're amazing. Want to show you how much. Always, all the time. I love you. Want to fuck you so bad. Want to hear you. Show you how good it is. When you're fucking me. How good it feels, how much I want it all the time. God, Bellamy. I want you all the time. Told you so. Gonna want it forever."

It clicks. Maybe not consciously, but somewhere he realizes. He’s her person, always there, but she’s also his person and he’s _hers_. It’s not about needing, it’s about wanting. She’ll be here, and she wants him. Exactly like he wants her.

He’s gasping and moaning, not holding back. She’s babbling behind him. A constant stream of, “god you’re amazing” and “fuck” and “yes, just like that.” He can feel the second orgasm building. She doesn’t ever break her rhythm. It mounts steadily, climbing higher and higher. He hears her cry like she does when she comes, and lets the sound push him over.

_Holy fuck._

_\--_

He collapses into the pillows with Clarke draped on top of him. They stay like that for a few moments before Clarke gently pulls out and Bellamy rolls onto his side away from the wet spot on the sheets. He's still trying to get his breath back and his brain is officially offline. Clarke takes the dildo out of the harness and lays down on her side facing him.

“How was that?” She says softly. He moves his lips a little bit before he can form something into a word. _Five_ , he thinks.

“Five.” She looks confused. “Fine?” she asks.

“No, five. Like--” _AP test scores_ , he thinks blearily. “It was amazing,” he says, grinning breathlessly. He can’t feel any of toes.

She still looks concerned. “Are you crying?”

He blinks. That would explain why she looked blurry even at this distance. She brings a hand up to his face and sure enough, he can feel tears between her fingers and his cheek. There are no words to explain why, but he musters enough energy into his right arm to cup her neck and draw her in for a kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispers when they part. She pulls him in again. “So, so, much,” he murmurs between kisses.

“I love you too,” she whispers back. And he believes her. Wholly. Completely. She really, truly means it.

What a wonder that is.


End file.
